


By Word, By Deed

by mautadite



Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: Cunnilingus, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-13
Updated: 2013-10-13
Packaged: 2017-12-29 06:45:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1002215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mautadite/pseuds/mautadite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Hey, all I said was that you shouldn’t expect me to lie back and think of Sleepy Hollow. No need to get so defensive.”</p><p>“I did not get <i>defen</i>—” he said defensively, voice pitching up, and Abbie started to giggle. Ichabod’s cheeks turned candy apple red. It was a good look on him.</p><p>“Come on, Crane,” she said, unfolding her legs and stretching languidly. “Before I start thinking you’re all talk.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	By Word, By Deed

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Stonestrewn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stonestrewn/gifts).



> New fandom, and I would apologise for jumping straight to the plotless porn, except I'm not sorry at all. (But honestly, no hyperbole, I wrote this pretty quickly and it really has no real plot, haha...)
> 
> Written, as most things with me, because of and for my dear Ingrid, bless her soul.
> 
> Takes place in some nebulous, less hectic future.

“And not everything about me is ‘archaic’, I’ll have you know,” Ichabod said crisply, lifting his chin as he rid himself of his trousers in a few quick movements. Abbie, sitting cross-legged on the bed, tilted her head appreciatively as he bent over to rest the folded article on the chair behind him. “As much as you’d like to believe that you did, the denizens of the 21st century did _not_ invent sexual activity. Human beings have been making love for aeons. I don’t think there’s anything new under the sun that you would have of me between the sheets.”

Abbie smiled, cupping her chin in her hand. 

“Hey, all I said was that you shouldn’t expect me to lie back and think of Sleepy Hollow. No need to get so defensive.”

“I did not get _defen_ —” he said defensively, voice pitching up, and Abbie started to giggle. Ichabod’s cheeks turned candy apple red. It was a good look on him.

“Come on, Crane,” she said, unfolding her legs and stretching languidly. “Before I start thinking you’re all talk.”

“As you wish, Lieutenant.” There was a silver shine in his eyes now, a mix of energy and anticipation rippling down his lean body that she could feel being echoed in her own. “I _will_ , however, ask you to lie back. What you think of is entirely up to you.”

“I think I’ll manage something.”

His eyes skipped from her eyes to her lips to her breasts and lower as he moved forward with long strides. Abbie bit down on her bottom lip and shifted on the bed to accommodate him, until she was propped up against the pillows on the headboard and Ichabod loomed above her, knees on either side of her waist.

“Perhaps in my time, we did not have these...” Ichabod’s voice was husky and low as he traced the contours of her bra, a lacy departure from her usual sensible support. The tip of his finger touched the corner of an aureole, and Abbie drew in a slow breath.

“And we certainly... did not... have... these...” he continued, slightly breathless as he fumbled with the front clasp. Abbie took pity on him, and brushed his hands away to undo the clip and push the cups away. The appreciative, almost worshipful look in his eyes as her breasts were bared made her cheeks heat up in pleasure. “My thanks, Lieutenant,” he murmured, dusting little kisses over the swell of her chest. His beard tickled, and his breath was warm on her already flushed flesh, lips searching and caressing until they closed over the tip of a brown nipple. Abbie gasped, arching up. She didn’t have far to go; long fingers were cupping her hips and pushing her back down with gentle pressure.

“These were not quite so common either, I confess,” he whispered, drawing a thumb over the raised skin of the tiny tattoo on the dip of her hip. A little burst of stars and the tip of a wand: the product of a rash teenage impulse and a boyfriend who knew a guy who knew a guy. Ichabod caressed the dark ink on her dark skin as if it were gold. 

“But we did,” he said, tugging her down so she lay prone her back, “do this.” Abbie went easily, and bared her neck as he traced his way up to it and kissed and sucked at a patch of skin. She moaned, raking her fingers across his shoulders, and felt his trembling response. His cock, warm and solid, twitched near her thigh. One of his hands curled around the back of her neck and crept up into her hair, strong and firm. 

“And we did this.” His mouth teased its way up to her lips; Abbie grabbed him by the chin and coaxed him the rest of the way up, impatient. Ichabod kissed her slowly, carefully, and firmly; as if she were made of a precious metal that he knew would never break. It made her shiver to the centre of her bones, and she tangled her fingers in his hair, pulling it free of its messy ponytail as she kissed him back. She hooked one of her legs around his thigh, feeling the strong muscle clench and tense as he rocked against her.

Too soon, he was pulling away, ambling his way back down her chest. His large hands cupped her breasts, dwarfing them, flicking at her nipples with his thumbs.

“We did quite a bit of this,” he mumbled, and lowered his head to graze his teeth against one of the peaks. Abbie only barely managed to swallow her shout; it eased out of her as a shuddering breath instead. Her legs twisted aimlessly; she felt like her pulse beat solely between her legs.

“An oldie but a goodie,” she managed to quip, scraping her fingers through Ichabod’s hair. He hummed in appreciation, looking up at her through thick lashes. He looked as though he’d be happy staying there forever, crouched above her, sucking and nipping at her breasts until she went dizzy with want.

Forever came and went; Ichabod’s mouth found its way down her ribs and the thick muscles of her abdomen, tickling and scratching her with his whiskers, while his fingers played the devil near the hem of her panties, toying with the fabric.

“We, of course, did our fair share of this,” he murmured, and his long fingers pressed against her clit through her underwear. Abbie bit back a curse; she could feel how wet she was as he massaged her and kissed softly at her stomach. The fingers went lower and dipped into her, just a little, and Abbie moaned, high and long.

Ichabod’s eyes were like blue gems, glinting in the low light.

“Are my methods too ‘old-fashioned’, or is this to your liking?” he husked, teasing at her lips with his fingers.

“It’s to my loving, and you know it, you smug jerk.” Abbie rolled her hips, trying to get more contact, more touch, more friction. She hooked a finger under his chin and tilted his head up, even as his fingers pressed harder, and made her sigh. “C-come on, you haven’t impressed me yet. Show me what else you wacky colonials got up to.”

Ichabod’s smile could have melted steel. 

“Right you are, Lieutenant.”

His fingers crept back up to the waistband of her panties, and began slowly pulling them down. Abbie swallowed, lifting her hips to accommodate him. If her near bareness surprised him, he was too engrossed in his mission to comment upon it. It was a slow journey; Ichabod paused every now and again to kiss or lick at a spot, to nip gently at a mole or scar as the scrap of material made its leisurely descent down her legs.

“This was certainly a favourite,” he commented in a low voice, spreading her legs and nosing softly behind a kneecap. He kissed the skin, and Abbie’s heart kicked faster. “Especially when the limbs in question were as shapely and lovely as your own.”

She didn’t think her cheeks could get any hotter; she thought wrong. When her underwear was finally free of her legs, Ichabod tossed it over to a waiting chair. Slowly, he spread her legs wider still and slid between them, crouched on his knees. His cock, standing straight up in its thatch of gold-brown curls, brushed against his stomach, and Abbie watched as he fluttered his eyes closed for a moment, and ignored it. She bit her lip, looking at him intently.

“We did this…” The words, throaty and thick, preceded a slew of kisses, tattooed onto her thighs and riding up to her hips. His hair, swinging free and smelling of shea butter, tickled at her skin as he slid his hands beneath her to palm her ass. “And this…” Ichabod dipped his lips into her navel before skimming the expanse from one hipbone to the next, with a touch so light it seemed like a thought. Abbie trembled, trying to push her hips up, but finding them held down again. “And this…” He nuzzled at the crease between her hips and thigh, coming close to where she wanted him, but not quite. He licked at the spot, and Abbie gasped, reaching down to cup his bristly jaw.

“Come on,” she huffed impatiently, chest rising and falling rapidly with her breaths. There was a little of the devil in Ichabod’s eyes as he took up her hand almost daintily.

“Any man could do this,” he informed her, brushing a kiss across her knuckles. “But a real gentleman was especially well-versed in this.”

The kiss came quick; just a quick press of his lips against her cunt that made Abbie jump and pump her hips upwards. His beard tickled even more here, scratched where she was sensitive and smooth, but it was rough in a good way, that only made her want to hook her legs around him and press herself to his mouth. He did that for her, taking a leg and drawing it over his shoulder before curling his tongue out and up, into her.

“Oh… _god_ ,” Abbie cried, unable to help herself this time, the sound escaping her in a mini explosion. Ichabod made a noise that was half satisfaction and half want, kissing and licking at her like a man parched with thirst. His moans made her dizzy; Abbie dragged her hair out of her eyes to see that his own were closed as he worked. He used his hands to lift her hips as he tongued her, circling up to her clit and down again, and Abbie bit down on her lip so hard she broke the skin. She felt like every pore of her was alive with pleasure. “God, Ichabod, I…”

Ichabod’s answer came in a groan, as his hips ground down and his mouth moved like sweet torture. He pulled away, but it was only to purse his lips and blow at her, use his fingers to spread her in a way that made her blush even harder. Then he ducked back in, lips dancing around her with a touch so light it felt like silk, before closing around her clit and sucking hard.

Her first orgasm was a surprise; she came with a jolt, thighs trembling around his neck as he licked her, a thumb pressing into her to wring out her moans. For the thousandth time that night Abbie found herself biting back a curse, rolling her hips down onto Ichabod’s mouth as shivers imploded all over her body. Ichabod was ever gentle: cradling her hips in his hands, pressing kisses to her there like he would to her mouth, backing away when she weakly asked him not to touch her clit for a few moments.

“Of course,” he said, voice like satin. They lay still for a few minutes as he pillowed his head on her thigh, craning his neck to look up at her. A few of his fingers were idling near her entrance, tracing little patterns. “May I…?”

Abbie sucked her bottom lip into her mouth, trying to remember how to breathe. He looked like a very lanky puppy, begging for a favour. Another good look on him.

“You may.”

Ichabod smiled.

One finger at first, easing its way into her, firm and slim. He tried a few thrusts, and when she moaned and nodded her appreciation, he pulled out, and entered her with two fingers, and then three, gently curving up into her.

“God, that feels good,” she groaned, lifting her hips, urging him towards the spot that made her see stars. He got the hint, curling his fingers as he thrust them, and devoting the rest of his attention to sucking a hickey into her thigh, then her stomach, then on the curve of her vulva, until she was writhing and moaning and pushing him back down.

His mouth was hot where he covered her, sucking tenderly at her inner lips as his fingers pumped rhythmically below. Abbie didn’t know what to do with her hands; they flew about her chest, cupping and squeezing her breasts and pinching her nipples, darting up to cover her cheeks, flicking down to fist in his hair and urge him on. He hummed against her, and the effect was devastating; Abbie’s entire body quaked, and she cried out, feeling as he moved within her and against her. When his thumb flicked against her clit she lost it, coming again, biting her wrist to keep from crying out.

Before she even stopped shaking, before she could lose the sensation, she was moving, flipping him onto his back and landing with her knees on either side of his head. She gave him a moment to process what had happened, but he didn’t seem to need it. Ichabod’s eyes flashed, and then he was tugging her down to sit astride his face. Her hips rocked, riding his mouth and muffling his noises. Abbie sobbed a little when his tongue flickered out, slick and wet on her clit, and had to reach out to support herself with the headboard as her cunt tensed up, the familiarly sweet ache rising in her stomach like thunder. She collapsed into shakes a third time, gasping as his hand caressed a breast and the other ran up and down her leg, supporting her and calming her quakes.

A few moments passed in near silence, her choppy breathing the only sound to cut through the air. Then Ichabod was cupping her hips and moving his mouth away so that he could lay her gently to rest on her back. Abbie sank into the sheets, feeling like a ragdoll, and curled into him when he draped himself alongside her. 

“God, I’m sorry,” she said softly when she noticed that he was still hard and straining against his stomach. She reached out to encircle his cock with her small fingers; it was smooth and hot and wet with pre-come, and he hissed, breath catching. “Just give me a minute.”

Ichabod, of course, managed to look smug, even with his cock firmly in her hand.

“Oh, you may have several minutes, Ms. Mills.” His eyes did the twinkling thing. “Can I offer you a glass of water? Some tea, perhaps?”

Abbie rolled her eyes, and made unfair use of her thumb nail in a way that had him yelping and blushing at the same time.

“You made your point, Crane.” Abbie raised her knuckles to his cheek, and cuffed him fondly. “But I still think I can prove mine.”

Her breath still wasn’t totally her own, but she rose back onto her knees to straddle him, and watched as his eyes made one of those slow journeys up and down her body. Abbie smiled as he swallowed.

“Your point… and what was that, again?” Long fingers reached up to tuck her hair behind her ear. “I seem to have quite forgotten.”

She kissed him them, because she could count on one hand the number of times she had for the evening, and that seemed like something that should be rectified. He tasted like her, smelt like her, and it was moments like these that she knew that they were one not only by scripture, but by deed.

Nipping at his bottom lip, she pulled away, and reached for the nightstand drawer.

“Only that a couple things _have_ changed over the centuries, and I think I have a few new tricks that I wanna show you.”

If anything, Ichabod’s eyes lit up a bit more.

“I am amenable. Please proceed, Lieutenant.”


End file.
